


Blood and Fire

by SunflowerSupreme



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Gen, Maedhros got super messed up while he was a captive, and Maglor tries to put him back together no matter how much it hurts him, possible cannibalism? depending on how you define that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-10
Updated: 2017-09-10
Packaged: 2018-12-25 23:12:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12046272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunflowerSupreme/pseuds/SunflowerSupreme
Summary: After the destruction of Maglor's Gap during the Battle of the Sudden Flame, Maglor flees to Maedhros at Himring and finds that his brother has not been taking care of himself.





	Blood and Fire

**Author's Note:**

> I've always viewed Sauron as being fairly vampiric (at one point he was a vampire, although that was taken out of the finished Silmarillion) and I thought it would be interesting to explore the idea of that and the idea of him sharing it
> 
> I wrote and posted this at like midnight, so I hope its legible. 
> 
> Yes I know I have like five series I should be working on. I needed a break from dead and tortured elves because somehow this is less depressing than all that.

Maglor carefully ran his fingers through his brother’s hair, feeling a pang of regret in his chest that he hadn’t visited him upon Himring in far too long. Never mind that it was too dangerous to stop by merely for a social call, he should have been there to make himself available if his brother had truly grown this weak, it should not have taken a dragon and the loss of his home to bring him.

“Nelyo,” he scolded softly, resting against the back of his brother’s chair, leaning over him to push aside the papers Maedhros had been attempting to focus on, having fled to his office (no doubt hoping to hide his condition) after greeting Maglor and ensuring he was safe. “You should have sent for me.”

Maedhros refused to meet Maglor’s concerned eyes, his gaze lingering on a flash of skin on Maglor’s wrist as the papers were moved, before forcibly wrenching his eyes away and staring at the far wall. “You had your people to protect,” he said stiffly. “And now you need to rest.”

“I will rest when you do.” He grabbed his brother’s chair and attempted to pull it out from his desk, fully intending to bundle Maedhros off to where he could properly care for him, but the elder grabbed his desk with his good hand and hooked his legs around the foot of his chair. “Don’t be so stubborn.”

Finally turning to look at the minstrel, Maedhros’ eyes were pale, the color nearly gone from them, and the muscles in his neck were tight, as though physically restraining himself. “You need rest, Kanafinwe.” Maglor tutted at the use of his father-name, but Maedhros pressed on, “You’ve just lost your home and nearly died, please, go to bed.”  

Maglor ignored him, shaking his head stubbornly. “You can order me to my room if it pleases you, but I will get no rest until I know you’ve been cared for.” He perched himself on Maedhros’ desk, where his brother could not ignore him. “How long has it been?”

Maedhros rapped his fingers on the wood of the desk, silent for a long moment, before quietly admitting, “Since last I saw Findekano.”

Doing the math in his head Maglor frowned. “ _Timo_ ,” he scolded, reverting to his childhood nickname. “That has been-“

“Years. The longest yet.”

“You cannot live like this.”

Maedhros stood quickly, his chair thrown back where it slammed against the wall. “Why not?” he asked sharply, his eyes glowing with anger. “We do not know it is not possible! I have not died yet!”

“But you suffer.” Wanting to make his brother understand, Maglor reached out for his hand, but Maedhros pulled away.

“I cannot bare to see you like this.” Maglor stood, dropping off his brother’s desk with a pained sigh. “It is no great trouble.”

Maedhros glared out the window, turning his back on Maglor in an attempt to end the conversation. “Kana, please, rest. You are exhausted.”

It wasn’t a lie, Maglor felt as though his feet were going to slid out from under him, and he wanted little more than to curl up in the bed in the room Maedhros always kept for him and sleep for several days, then take a bath and devour any food he could get his hands on. But Maedhros also needed to eat, even if it was not normal food that would sate him. “I will rest when you do. I made you a promise, that I would always help you when you needed it – I never said I would only help when you wanted it.”

Maedhros swallowed, still staring stubbornly out the window. “Go to your room.” When Maglor opened his mouth to protest Maedhros raised his stump to silence him. “Clean up and make yourself comfortable and I will bring you a meal and then you may-“ he waved his hand, wordlessly finishing the statement.

Maglor smiled, reaching out to place a reassuring hand on Maedhros’ shoulder. “Thank you.” Maedhros made no reply as he turned and strode to the door.

He didn’t feel like taking enough time to draw warm water for a bath – and something told him he should expect Maedhros sooner rather than later – so instead he stripped himself of his worn traveling clothes, washed with a cloth and basin, then changed into a simple cotton robe which he had evidently left behind after his last visit. His hair he gave up on for the time being, and pulled it into a ragged bun at the base of his skull. Then he tumbled onto his bed, nearly asleep by the time he heard the door opening. Maedhros crossed the dark room quickly, and Maglor heard him place a tray on the bedside table, finally the bed shifted as he sat.

“Did you bring a blade?” Maglor asked, finally opening his eyes to peer at his sibling who nodded and picked up a sharp hunting knife from the tray.

The minstrel tried to hide his flinch as the dim light reflected off the blade, but Maedhros must have seen something, because he said, “Kana, this can wait.”

“I won’t enjoy it any more tomorrow, Timo, and you will only need more.” He smiled sadly and slipped one arm from his robe, offering it out to his brother.

Maedhros moved to lean against the headboard, and then pulled Maglor to sit in front of him. Maglor crossed his legs and pulled a pillow into his lap, curling over it and preparing to bite it if he panicked. Maedhros’ fingers ran slowly over the thin row of scars on Maglor’s shoulder. “You’re certain?”

“Do it before I do it myself!” Maglor finally snapped, turning his head to give his brother a dark look. Maedhros turned his head forward again, never able to face him during these moments, then pressed the knife to Maglor’s pale skin and closed his eyes. He didn’t open his eyes as he pushed gently, only knowing that he had broken the skin by Maglor’s sudden intake of breath. Eyes still closed he pushed the knife to Maglor, the minstrel taking ahold of it, a part of their agreement, that he would be able to defend himself it Maedhros ever went too far. Only when Maglor hummed softly did he open his eyes and take in the sight of crimson on his brother’s skin. Immediately he was a different person – a different creature – and he lunged forward and pressed his lips to the wound greedily, his stumped arm wrapping around Maglor’s waist to pull him closer so that he could devour more of the coopery liquid. Everything else was forgotten in that moment – he no longer cared what his people would think if they knew why he had insisted upon taking food to his brother personally, he no longer worried that he would be found out, or that Fingon and his brothers, the only ones who knew the truth of his condition, would realize what a monster he was. All he cared about was the blood.

Maglor curled forward and suppressed a cry and Maedhros latched onto him, thankful, as always, that his brother lacked the fanged teeth he had described Sauron as having. He could only imagine how much more terrible it would make their situation if he did. Silent tears, a mixture of pain, fear, and sorrow trickled down his cheeks as he clutched the knife in one hand, the other snaking to grasp Maedhros’ stump. Even when the others who shared their secret were present, Maglor always insisted on feeding Maedhros himself, a part of him wishing to shield them, his younger brothers in particular, from the pain, and a part of him wanting to suffer (even if it was only a small amount) as he had allowed Maedhros to suffer.

Somehow Maedhros always seemed to know when Maglor was near his limit, and he pulled back as he always did, pressing a folded cloth against the wound to stopper the bleeding. He leaned back, pulling his weakened brother into his arms, fingers brushing his hair. “Now allow me to feed you.” Before Maglor could even think, fruit was being pressed to his lips, and he accepted gratefully. Chocolate was next, they had experimented (and questioned unsuspecting healers, under the guise of needing to know what to do if one of them lost blood due to injury) and discovered that a mixture of fruit, sugar, and water was best for recovery. On that day Maedhros feed him a sweetened wine, which Maglor gladly accepted.

Once finished eating he tucked himself into Maedhros’ shoulder, sleepily demanding that his brother stay. Maedhros, his usual anger toward himself gone now that he was no longer wasting away, the color already beginning to return to his eyes, agreed, clearing the plate and knife from the bed before tucking Maglor into the covers. Exhausted beyond reason, Maglor leaned against his brother. “Now that I am here,” he whispered, “You can eat whenever you need.”

“Kana-“

“Think about it brother, the more often you are sated, the less difficult it will be for me.” Maglor knew the only way to win Maedhros over was to convince him it was for his own benefit, and he offered a tired smile.

“But I do not-“

Maglor covered his brother’s mouth with his hand. “Argue tomorrow,” he yawned.

Maedhros laughed in spite of himself, drawing Maglor closer and ruffling his hair. “Sleep well my songbird.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm definitely going to be writing more in this AU, although it might just be a bunch of oneshots.


End file.
